“Leading up to subscriptions—­don’t forget that,” said her father.  “If subscriptions are to be forthcoming, they must be got up.  Traffic in human flesh, insults to aborigines, Siberia, the conversion of the Jews—­all these appeal directly to the pockets of the Great English People.  Any one of them will constitute an excellent peg on which to hang an appeal to the pocket.  Those two distinguished pioneers of—­well, shall we say civilization or Nonconformity?—­understand their business, my dear.”

“It is no part of their business to try and hold a brave man up to the execration of everyone.”

“I’m not so sure of that.  The technicalities of the mission field are not so apparent all at once.  The Vineyard—­well, the system of vine-culture of some of the organizations is a trifle obscure.”

Phyllis became impatient.

“The House of Commons—­a question is to be asked in the House.  Then you must ask another, papa, showing the nonsense of the first.”

“Heavens above!  Why should I be dragged into the quarrel, if it is a quarrel, of Herbert Courtland on the one hand and the Reverends Joseph Capper and what’s the other, Smith—­no, Jones—­Evans Jones?  I shouldn’t wonder if he is of Welsh extraction.”

“You will surely not stand passively by and hear a brave man slandered.  That would be unlike you, papa.  No; you are bound to protest against the falsehood.”

“Am I indeed?  Why?  Because the slandered man, if he is slandered, is the friend of my daughter’s friend?”

“Exactly—­that’s quite sufficient for you to go upon—­that and the falsehood.”

“If it is a falsehood.”

“If—­oh, papa—­if?”

“If I have your personal guarantee that the statements are unsubstantiated——­”

“Now, you are beginning to jest.  I cannot jest on so serious an issue.  Think of it—­slaves—­dynamite!”

“Both excellent words for missionaries to send home to England—­almost equal to opium and idols from the standpoint of the mission-box.”

Phyllis was solemn for a moment; then she burst into a merry laugh that only wanted a note of merriment to be delightful.  Her father did not miss that note.  He was thinking of another phrase.

“Now, why shouldn’t you say that or something like that, my father?” cried the girl.  “Something to set the House laughing before the Minister of the Annexation Department has had time to reply?  You can do it, you know.”

“I believe I could,” said Mr. Ayrton thoughtfully.  “But why, my child; why?”

“Why!  Why!  Oh, if one only said good things when there was a reason for saying them, how dull we should all be!  Any stick for a dog—­any jest is good enough for the House of Commons.”

“Yes; but suppose it is inferred that I am not on the side of the missionaries?  What about Hazelborough?”

Hazelborough was the constituency which Mr. Ayrton represented in the House of Commons.